The Worst Case Scenario
by Aurelia Calliope
Summary: AU of P&P. After Mr. Collins' proposal Lizzy finds herself in the worst possible situation. Contains broken ankles, mud, and Mr. Darcy. R&R please!
1. What a Day!

The Worst Case Scenario By Aurelia Calliope  
  
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Jane Austen's fabulous characters, or anything else of hers. How unfortunate!  
  
Author's Note: I thank you all very much for reading my story (however whether you read this not or not will be entirely at your discretion). I would encourage you all to review, even if it's negative, but please try to be constructive in all criticism. Tell me why you hated it, that's all I ask. I hope you all enjoy this AU, "what if" version of Pride and Prejudice. The action in this story begins right after Mr. Collins proposal to Elizabeth. Cheers, Aurelia Calliope  
  
Chapter 1~ What a Day!  
  
BANG! The door of Longbourn was firmly slammed shut by a young lady, walking so quickly from the house it was clear her fondest wish was to distance herself from it and all of its inhabitants, permanent, and most especially visitors. As soon as she was out of sight, and beyond the gardens, she began to run wildly, without direction, thinking only of escape. Perhaps it was not ladylike, but she had little inclination to behave herself while she was in this mood.  
'The stupid, thoughtless, piggish man! To think I should want to marry him! To say to my face it was not likely I would ever receive another offer of marriage! OH!' she muttered to herself, as she threw her bonnet off her head and sat down by a tree stump. Elizabeth Bennet sat infuriated with everyone, her mother, her sisters – excepting Jane of course- and, after pounding her fist on the ground in frustration-producing only the effect of causing herself pain-, once again commenced stormily marching through the fields contemplating his insolence, his stupidity, the possibility that she should have married him – she married to Mr. Collins! Luckily her father had interceded on her behalf, but she could not stand another moment with her mother's irrational temper tantrum. Even now she fancied she could hear the echoes of her mother screaming from Longbourn. "Lizzy, how could you have refused Mr. Collins? The thought that you should have been Mistress of Longbourn! Oh! I shall surely die my nerves have endured so much! You don't know how I suffer! You are the most stubborn, headstrong...OH HILL! Fetch me my smelling salts!" the voice of Mrs. Bennet replayed in her head again as she cringed with the thought of what she must eventually return too, and wondering if it might not be better to run off and become a gypsy. At least Mrs. Bennet's irritation at that might afford her some amusement. Lizzy was absolutely convinced that she, Jane, and her father were the only sane ones in the house. "As though I should care if she ever spoke to me again!" She said out loud. "Indeed it would be a blessing on my nerves!"  
She walked on like this for several hours, minding neither her direction nor the darkening sky. She tried to think of a topic to lighten her mood, but none could achieve her goal. She tried to think of Bingley and Jane, and how happy they both seemed, but that only brought back memories of the Netherfield Ball: her dance with Mr. Darcy; her family's behavior; Mr. Collins! At this rate her sour mood could go on forever. She could hardly think of the entire event without abhorrence.  
As Lizzy walked she scarcely noticed how far from Longbourn she had come. Indeed she was, without her notice, coming very close to Netherfield. She ran, and ran, and ran from the unpleasant memories that were chasing her, which she was madly trying to escape, taking only short stops to catch her breath every once and a while. She looked up at the sky, and was almost pleased to see that its color perfectly reflected her mood. This, of course, was all before she felt the ground under her drop out. She fell, sprawled across the ground in a rather deep ditch, with her ankle painfully twisted under her body. Her dress and hands were streaked with dirt and mud. As if the day was not cumbersome enough, Elizabeth Bennet found herself in a situation which was much more complex, frustrating, and humiliating.  
"GOOD GOD! The idea that I should then trip and fall into a ditch." She exclaimed. She looked around her and noticed that this ditch also happened to be filled with mud that covered her. She sighed, smacking her hands down into the dark, sticky mud in dismay and frustration. The entire situation was so ridiculously awful; she could barely contain her emotions. She smiled although a tear ran down her face, and she could not help but thinking what on Earth Miss Bingley would do if she saw her now.  
"The situation improves I see! Well," she yelled at the sky, as though demanding an explanation from the higher power which put her here, "I suppose I am now to find that you will begin raining hard, I shall have a broken ankle, and be stuck here for a good long time, for I have no 'knight in shining armor' to rescue me from my present affliction."  
As she spoke these words a torrent of rain was unleashed from the sky. Lizzy laughed at the thought that her prediction should come true, even though the sheets of rain that were soaking her to the skin were a bit foreboding, and certainly not a welcome sign. Perhaps when she left Longbourn for good, which would be very soon, she hoped, she would leave it as a gypsy fortuneteller. Wouldn't Mama be Proud! However, even though she dreaded going back home,- especially now, when her mother could gloat over her muddy appearance, and yell at her even more- it was not prudent to sit outside in the rain like a nitwit. As she rose to pull herself out of the ditch and hurry home, at least as quickly as she could, for she was dimly aware of a sharp pain radiating from her ankle, her ankle gave way. With a muted shout of pain, surprise, and frustration, Elizabeth Bennet fell backwards into the ditch, which was transforming itself quite quickly into a mud puddle. 


	2. Of Knights in Shining Armor

Disclaimer: It's all Jane Austen's, not mine.  
  
Author's Note: Thank you for your fabulous reviews. Congratulations, Mr. Darcy appears in this chapter! Hopefully you'll like the way I made him. I am interested to hear how everyone liked my portrayal of Elizabeth, too. Please do continue to review and criticize (in a nice way). Happy Reading, Aurelia Calliope  
  
Chapter 2- Of Knights in Shining Armor  
  
As the mud splattered onto Elizabeth Bennet's face and clothes, she let out a cry of pain. Her ankle was throbbing and she could only hope it was strong enough to hobble home on. She absolutely had to get out of this situation, that is, if she did not want to freeze to death. As she raised herself slowly and gently, steeling herself for another fight with the ditch and it slippery high walls, which came up above her waist, she tentatively placed her weight on her bad ankle she let out a yelp of pain, and a groan of temporary defeat, as she grasped the side of the ditch to prevent herself from falling into the mud again.  
  
"I cannot imagine a worse scenario! I suppose I shall have to crawl home, at this rate!" she cried, infuriated. But Lizzy knew that she would not be able to move until help arrived. She could no longer contain her emotions, which had been threatening to overflow since that disgusting idiot would not accept no for an answer. The last few days had been so humiliating, so unbelievable, and so awful! Lizzy began to sob. She saw no way out of this awful predicament until someone came looking for her. Her family would be too preoccupied: her father in his library thinking she had already returned; her mother -along with Lydia, Kitty, and Mary- too concerned with themselves to care; and dear Jane daydreaming about Bingley, so as not to notice her absence. She suddenly felt completely and utterly alone and abandoned.  
  
Her only hope she decided, trying to make light of the situation, was that Mr. Collins, realizing how he had pained her, his lady fair, would jump upon his noble steed -armor and all, of course- in search of his one true love. Lizzy began to laugh and sob at the same time with a vision of Mr. Collins in armor riding across the hills calling desperately, "Cousin Elizabeth, my love, where have you wandered to? My sweet lady, do not forgive me!" She could nearly see him having trouble staying on his horse, practically falling off into the mud himself. What a rescue that would be! At this point laughter took control of her and she lay against the side of the ditch, soaked through, covered in mud from head to toe, and laughing as the rain poured onto her.  
  
"Well, at least Mr. Collins will not rescue me. I am spared that pain! It would not do to die in the rain because I was picturing Mr. Collins rescuing me, so I had better get myself out of this hole, and soon." she mused. She managed after a time to pull herself out of the ditch, and she lay on the ground breathing rather heavily, for her effort had taken quite a bit out of her already exhausted and bruised body. As she surveyed her surroundings, and came to the conclusion that the nearest residence was Netherfield, she knew it was impossible for her to attempt going home at all. Well, at least Caroline Bingley would be shocked senseless for a good long time. She saw no way out of this mess, movement was nearly impossible, her ankle was throbbing too much to make for her to attempt even the short walk to Netherfield, and she had begun shivering incessantly. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing up and down feverishly, and tried desperately to think of the best course of action. She decided for the moment at least she could continue to lie on the ground picturing Mr. Collins as a valiant knight defending the honor of his noble patroness, Lady Catherine DeBourgh. She smiled at the picture, as tears slipped down her face rapidly.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He was tired of Hertfordshire, its society, its landscape, and everything about it. And to make matters worse Bingley was head over heels in love with Jane Bennet, who obviously didn't love him in return, but would marry him for his wealth at her mother's urging. Fitzwilliam Darcy knew that this would be the ruin of Bingley; marrying a woman with so few connections could alter his standing in society profoundly, even if Jane was charming and pretty. Marriage certainly had the power to make or break a man in these days, and there was no way he was going to let his friend ruin all of his prospects.  
  
His horse carried him across the fields at a trot away from Meryton, where he finished arranging the trip to London. As he hurried on towards Netherfield, he convinced himself Bingley's welfare was his only motive for fleeing from Hertfordshire. However, more especially, he wanted to escape a certain person. He was thinking of Elizabeth Bennet much more often than could be deemed healthy. If he could only escape this hold she had over him, all would be right again in this world. He would be able to sleep again, and would be able to stop worrying about what she thought of Wickham. In a way he hated that most of all: that she should prefer that thing to him was insufferable.  
  
"Well," thought he, "All our troubles will soon be over. Bingley's sisters and I will make a point of showing him how imprudent this whole ridiculous thing is. I shall soon be away from her, and then everything will be fine. The best course of action now is a hasty retreat to Town." With a glance at the sky Fitzwilliam Darcy was awakened from his reverie. "What could have possessed me to stay outdoors so long without taking any heed of the weather? I just hope this storm will hold off until I reach Netherfield!"  
  
He urged his horse into a gallop, taking off at a much quicker rate. As he did so the rain began pour down, and it appeared that it had no intention of stopping for sometime. Darcy, thinking he could reach Netherfield just as easily as anywhere else he might take refuge, urged his horse on across the fields. Within in several minutes he was soaked to the skin and shivering with cold.  
  
"I cannot imagine a worse scenario! All I need now is something to prevent me from following Bingley to town!" he yelled in exasperation. It was not proving to be his day at all. No sooner had he spoken those words than he saw a figure lying on the ground, shivering with cold. It was a figure which looked vaguely familiar, but at this distance he could not tell for certain. 


	3. Some Rescue!

Disclaimer: The characters are all Jane Austen's. The bizarre situation I've stuck them in is mine!  
  
Author's Note: My apologies for the delay. I was away from my computer for almost a week. Thank you all for your reviews. My head is inflating rather quickly thanks to all of my reviewers. If anyone is interested in beta-ing please do drop me an e-mail. I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations. Cheers, Aurelia Calliope P.S. - I like suspenseful endings, sorry!  
  
Chapter Three- Some Rescue!  
  
Elizabeth Bennet saw a horse approaching her at a quick speed. An enormous sense of relief spread over her. It did not matter who was on that horse, help had finally come. She could almost feel the scalding water of a hot bath pour over her, washing away the dirt and grime, and soothing all her aches and pains. She snapped back to attention to check on the progress of the horse and its rider. The horse was stopped and she watched as the rider hastily dismounted. She thought the figure, a tall man, looked familiar. A sense of dread came over her as she realized who her rescuer was. Her eyes widened and she gently pinched herself to make sure this was not some terrible nightmare. The feeling of relief at being found was quickly melting away into one of embarrassment and exasperation at being caught in her current situation by Mr. Darcy of all people.  
  
"Miss Bennet!" His voice betrayed his surprise, concern, and bewilderment.  
  
"Mr. Darcy." She replied, with a hint of irritation laced throughout the simple statement. She now wished that no one had come upon her at all. Perhaps she was being melodramatic, but she could not conceive of any way for fate to torment her more.  
  
"What on Earth are you doing out in this weather, lying in the mud?" It was not a very polite question, although a perfectly reasonable one. He was baffled. A thousand different emotions threatened to attack him at once. He was incredulous, exasperated, and a little amused. He was not indifferent to the irony of this situation: him meeting the very person he had been trying to banish from his mind, and go to London to avoid! Good Lord, going to London tomorrow would be impossible; he would be stuck at Netherfield, most likely with a nasty cold, and most certainly with an invalid Elizabeth Bennet. Strangely this thought did not seem to bother him as much as it should have. The only important thing now was that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was lying on the ground, in the pouring rain.  
  
"What do you suppose, Mr. Darcy?" Her voice stopped the mad progression of his thoughts, and her tone, laced with anger and sarcasm, surprised him. "You suppose that I came out to sit in the rain and mud? I was out walking and I hurt my ankle. Then the heavens decided it would be an excellent idea if they soaked me to the skin to complete the excellent day I was having."  
  
"Please allow me to assist you. We should both be inside. Have you injured anything else?" He chose to ignore her cutting speech, although it vexed him, and he took a step forward in order to assure himself that she really was alright.  
  
"Do not trouble yourself, sir, for I am sure I can make it back home." She coldly replied. "In fact I am sure I can make it back to Longbourn." She rose with her weight on one foot and gritted her teeth in pain as she carefully placed her weight on her bad ankle. "There you see..." As she spoke this, with a false smile plastered on her face, her bad ankle crumbled under her weight and she fell forward into his arms.  
  
"Miss Bennet, you are hardly being reasonable. You cannot expect to walk three miles in the pouring rain on a bad ankle. I will take you to Netherfield." He spoke as he steadied her. She was now able to stand with her weight on his shoulder, and subsequently she felt more confident in her own ability to get home.  
  
She might have been cold and tired, and it might have been a trying day, to say the least, but there was no way she was going to let him triumph over her in anything. How he must be inwardly rejoicing at having found her so humbled! Well she would not let him savor his victory for long. She would not give into his request to help her, not now, not ever. "I assure you, sir, it is nothing as bad as you would like to make it. Why, my ankle hardly hurts at all." She spoke this confidently, more to reassure herself than anything. She gritted her teeth and walked back towards home, hoping her limp was not as visible as it seemed to her.  
  
"Miss Bennet! What exactly do you think you're doing?" He cried exasperated, as he walked after her at a brisk pace. He could not believe she would turn down his help when she was in obvious need of it. She was limping terribly. "You cannot expect me to let you walk three miles like that. You look as though you're about to fall over dead!" It was very ungentlemanly, he knew, but at that point he did not care what she thought. All he wanted to do was help her, and her irrational, hostile behavior was vexing him to no extent. He could not help thinking of whether or not she would accept Wickham's aid in such a situation, and it was this that firmed up his resolve to take action. Swiftly Mr. Darcy stepped forward, catching up to Miss Bennet with ease, since she was hobbling along at the rate of a ninety-year-old beggar woman.  
  
"You are determined to refuse my help?" He asked harshly, accusing her of a determined, stubborn, irrational pride, which she was, at that moment, displaying.  
  
"I don't need your help, Mr. Darcy. Allow me to say..."She was cut off by one swift motion. In a second she had been swept up into Mr. Darcy's arms. She was speechless. What was he thinking, what was he doing? His face was a portrait of resolve and determination. So, he thought he had won this battle, did he? She would show him. How dare he act in such a manner!  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" She finally managed to get out. Her tone conveyed all her anger and hatred of him.  
  
"Acting rationally and getting you out of the cold, since you seem incapable of making a good decision on your own!" His tone matched hers perfectly. He was so angry with this woman. How dare she act so to him? How dare she make him care about her, even though she treated him with such cruelty?  
  
"Mr. Darcy, I really don't think..."She began again, but in a gentler tone, as though trying to make him aware of something. He, however, was determined not to let her have the upper hand in this.  
  
"If there were another option, Miss Bennet, I would gladly make use of it." He cut her off rudely, trying to assert his dominance.  
  
"Mr. Darcy..." She began more frantically, and more worried than her previous attempt. She was pulling hard on his jacket in a mad effort to get his attention.  
  
"No, not another word of protest, it's for your own good..." He continued to cut her off rudely. Suddenly he felt the ground go out under him, his ankle twist painfully beneath him, and he found himself lying in a deep ditch with a livid and very muddy Elizabeth Bennet on top of him.  
  
"What I was going to say, sir, before you so rudely cut me off is that you were heading for a ditch." She was furious. She wiped away the streaks of mud from her face as she glowered at him. How she hated this man! And now thanks to Mr. Darcy she was back at square one. This day was completely awful.  
  
He was stuck in a muddy ditch with an irate Elizabeth Bennet in the middle of a torrential rainstorm. He would not being going to London. He would not be able to escape this captivating, infuriating woman in front of him for some time to come. Charles might be able to marry Jane Bennet after all, since he would not be able to talk some sense into him. Caroline Bingley would be able to fuss over him if he caught a cold. Well, that is if he and Miss Bennet did not murder each other first. Was it possible for there to be a worse case scenario? 


	4. A Turn for the Worse

Chapter Four  
  
Disclaimer: No, I don't own the characters, settings, etc. I only own the unique way in which I torture them.  
  
Author's Note: A big thank you to all of my readers for their patience. I hope that I won't keep you waiting so long for the next installment. Also thank you to my fabulous beta, Juliet, who inspired a rather large addition to the end. As always, please do review; I really enjoy reading everyone's opinions and reactions. Cheers, Aurelia Calliope  
  
Chapter 4 – A Turn for the Worse  
  
"I was only trying to help you." Fitzwilliam Darcy sighed, burying his head in his hands. They had been in the ditch for twenty minutes at least, and all they had done was argue, or rather she had berated him while he tried to defend himself. He was frustrated, wet, exhausted, and on top of it all was almost positive that the slight jarring pain coming from his ankle meant he had twisted it. "You could be a little more appreciative."  
  
"Oh, yes! Excuse me, Mr. Darcy; I am sure that without your help I never would have ended up back in this ditch!" Her voice was half sarcastic, half full of rage. She was back to square one, and stuck in the mud with the most haughty, proud, disagreeable man in the universe. He had presumed to carry her, without her permission, interrupt her, and then had landed them both in this blasted ditch. He had better start to atone for his mistakes. "The least you could do is to get us both out of this ditch and into some shelter."  
  
"I am trying, Miss Bennet. Perhaps you could try to be a little more patient." He clamored to get up, and felt his ankle give way as he tried to stand to survey the situation. He gripped the edge of the ditch for support and cursed under his breath, but loud enough for Elizabeth to hear.  
  
"Well, I am sure you are trying Mr. Darcy, but trying won't be enough to get us out of this situation, which, may I remind you, you put us in." Her tone conveyed anger, frustration, and near hysteria. She was gradually resigning herself to this awful situation, and she had to strive to suppress her rising tears. She was resolved not to appear weak in front of him. "Unfortunately we are both stuck here, together, until help arrives." She wished for nothing more then to be as far away from him as possible. She sighed rather audibly, as she heard him take a breath and prepare to speak further. Couldn't the man just let her alone for a little while?  
  
He was almost back in Meryton, the land of naïve women and shopkeepers, and for the time, his residence. He liked it there. He could use more places where the people were that trusting of a stranger. He was amazed that Darcy hadn't stepped forward yet, and revealed his true character. But then again he only ever thought of preserving his honor. Another mistake, Darcy, he thought, another mistake which has let me get the better of you once again.  
  
He had heard that Mr. Bingley was gone to town, and he knew Darcy and the others would follow. "A perfect time for my return," he spoke with the well- satisfied smile of a victorious man, "and another story to impress the ladies with. Not every man would ride through a rainstorm to be back by their sides all the sooner."  
  
He was quite close to Netherfield now, and his interest was sparked by two voices arguing rather heatedly with one another, one male and one female. There was no one in sight but he saw a horse, and then noticed a huge ditch in the ground. He dismounted, tied up his horse, and went over to satisfy his curiosity. It had better be worth it to stop and risk further damage to his new suit.  
  
"However much you dislike being with me, Miss Bennet, I assure you that it is no great pain for me to spend time with you. Although some people, who lack judgment, would prefer Mr. Wickham's lies to my company, they have been sorely mislead." As soon as he spoke those words he knew it was a mistake. But the truth of the matter was her preference of Wickham had been eating away at him more and more readily with every harsh word she uttered towards him.  
  
"I cannot imagine what you mean Mr. Darcy, when it's obvious that you are the one who abused Mr. Wickham so shamefully. I cannot believe that even you would stoop so low as to refuse your father's wishes just because of jealousy. But then, what could I expect from someone who is so arrogant and such a narcissist that they will not even dance with people they deem only 'tolerable'."  
  
"What nonsense are you speaking of now? More lies you were all too eager to believe?"  
  
"I am speaking, Mr. Darcy, of your refusal to dance with me at the Meryton Assembly." She knew she shouldn't have said that. It made her look petty, common, and jealous of not being asked to dance with him. She wouldn't want to dance with him anyway. And yet she could not comprehend, if indeed she didn't care if he danced with her, why she would let it eat away at her so. She decided to make a quick recovery, after that slip up: "But it is not that which angers me. I never wished dance with you, and sincerely hope I will never have to again." She said with a triumphant smirk, "Your treatment of Mr. Wickham it what truly proved your abominable self-centered nature. You refused to give him what was rightfully left to him in your father's will. You are so..."  
  
"I never refused him anything that was left to him. And I'm sorry you have to believe slander about me because I refused to dance with you, once. How could you be so presumptuous as to believe anything that liar told you?" He was furious; she trusted that thing more than she did him. Darcy was also a little gratified; it was his foolish refusal of her that had sparked her dislike of him. He felt a little flicker of hope burst to life within him. He would just have to set this account straight. He would have to tell her. "Miss Bennet, you must know the truth about Mr. Wickham. I ask you to listen to my story as attentively as you listened to his false one. Wickham is a scoundrel, a dissolute, base, vile..."  
  
"Listen to YOU! I don't care if I kill myself trying to get out of this pit. I would much rather die than listen to your, so called, truths." Elizabeth hobbled as quickly as she could to side of the ditch, and struggled as she tried to pull herself up and out. She sighed when her first attempt failed, and decided to try once more.  
  
"Now wait just a minute! You are the most infuriating woman I've ever met!" He yelled. He was resolute that she would hear him out, even if he had to physically restrain her. "You will, please, stop trying to escape, and hear me out!"  
  
"I don't think so Mr. Darcy! Now, if you'll be so kind as to remove your hands from my arm, I can get home much more quickly." She used an overly polite tone, and accompanied it with a completely false smile. With a burst of strength she managed to pull her torso up over the ditch and perch herself precariously on the edge. Just as she was about to swing her legs out of the ditch she felt a firm grip on them. She looked down at Darcy with a murderous glare.  
  
"Miss Bennet, if you think I am going to let you walk away with your bad opinion of me intact, you are most sadly mistaken. You are mistaken if you think I am going to let you think that that lying, conniving, lecherous BASTARD is a good man!" Her eyes flew wide with his words, and Darcy himself could not be anything but shocked. He had lost control. He wasn't even sure he'd ever sworn that loudly. Never the less, he seemed to have shocked Miss Bennet into silence, and this was an opportunity he was not about to miss. He took a deep breath, and, feeling somewhat calmer, proceeded: "Mr. Wickham, you see, was the son of my father's steward. I liked him well enough before." Just speaking of that... thing was making his blood boil and he was trying very hard to remain calm. Unfortunately, it just wasn't working. "That was before he tried to put his lecherous, grimy little hands..."  
  
"Now, now, Darcy," said a cold, sneering voice from above the ditch, "We wouldn't want to tell Miss Bennet any falsehoods involving me. It would be very ungentlemanly."  
  
Darcy's eyes flew open in shock. This was unreal. He took a step back, without letting go of Miss Bennet, whom, for the moment, he forgot was there. Just as she was about to fall into the ditch she felt to strong arms being placed firmly on her waist, preventing her from another tumble into the mud-laden pit. She looked up, and was not surprised, but at least a little relieved to find it was Mr. Wickham. Then he did something very shocking, and, at least she thought, lacking propriety: he winked at her. And all she thought of were Mr. Darcy's words: lecherous, grimy little hands. So, she was stuck on the edge of the pit; a rope in the tug of war between two men: the one infuriated, the other seeming to enjoy himself all too much. 


End file.
